What Happened, According To Monkey
by HaleyDub
Summary: Monkey, Twiggy, and Skweeker jump into a hole and land up in the world of the wacko newsies. "Apparently, movies don't show everything."


"What Happened, According To Monkey"

It all started out as a normal day. One minute, Twiggy, Skweeker, and I (being Monkey) were running a soccerball around my backyard; the next, pure weirdness struck.

I was in the process of passing the ball to Twiggy when a huge hole appeared in the ground. Of course, the soccerball fell right in. A squirrel, jumping from tree branch to tree branch, missed and fell into the hole, squealing the whole way down.

We all looked down into the pit. "Poor thing!" Twiggy exclaimed. I, meanwhile, was laughing at the whole bit.

"I wonder what would happen if we jumped down there?" I mused, trying to see what was in the hole.

Skweeker shook her head. "Let's not find out."

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun," I tried to persuade them.

Both Skweeker and Twiggy stood their ground. I shrugged. "Okay, fine. I'm going." Being the dummy with blonde roots that I am, I jumped right into the pit. My fall was so fast that I couldn't see anything. Suddenly, my fall slowed to a crawl and I looked down. There was light, I was sure of it.

I fell through the bottom of the hole and landed hard on a stack of newspapers. Needless to say, it wasn't a bed of roses.

"OWW!" I screamed, rolling off what I discovered to be a wagon where all the papers were stacked. I hit the pavement with a thud.

"I'm in pain!" I groaned, rolling around on the ground.

Someone poked me in the side with their foot. I looked up and saw a boy who looked strangely like a character from "Newsies". In fact, it was Jack Kelly.

"Hey! Get up. You're layin' in the middle of our distribution line," he said, this time kicking me.

"Ahh!" I groaned, lifting my leg and kicking him hard in the back of the knee.

He stumbled forward and spun around to face me. The look on his face made me laugh hysterically, which hurt badly. I held my sides, gasping.

"No one does that to the Cowboy!" he roared.

I just laughed even harder. "Go buy your papes," I finally told him.

He huffed and went to the window. Someone grabbed me and pulled me off the ground. It happened to be none other than David Jacobs.

"Thanks, Davey," I said, every bone in my body cracking.

"H-h-h-how do you know my name?" he asked rather nervously.

"Don't worry about it."

He nodded quickly, looking around and rubbing his hands together.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"NOTHING! N-n-n-nothing, nothing. Nothing's out to get me. NOTHING'S OUT TO GET ME!" With that proclaimation, he sat down in a corner and sucked his thumb, whimpering.

"Well, that's the worst case of paranoia I've ever seen," I muttered.

"Dave gets like that a lot. He's scared 'cause a squirrel came outta nowhere and landed on Snipeshooter's face a few minutes ago," Racetrack told me.

On cue, I looked up to see Twiggy fall through the hole and land on Crutchy. Davey screamed and hid his face. Crutchy started laughing hysterically. "Fellas! Hey, fellas! A goil landed on me!"

"Ah, shaddap," came the enthusiastic reply of the other boys.

Twiggy pulled herself up off the ground and came over to me. "That hurt. I landed on his crutch."

"Is Skweeks coming too?" I asked.

Before Twiggy could answer, Skweeker landed on Crutchy (who had just stood up off the ground). Crutchy started laughing almost maniacally. "Two goils! TWO GOILS!!!"

"Thanks, Crutchy. You broke my fall nicely," Skweeker said, rolling her eyes.

"What made you two decide to come?" I asked.

Skweeker shrugged. "We can't let you have all the fun, can we?"

"Guess not," I answered.

Mush and Blink came up to us. "What kinda clothes are you goils wearin'?" Blink asked. "Mervin wants to know."

"Who's Mervin?" Twiggy asked.

Mush leaned in close to us and whispered, "One of Blink's voices."

The three of us stifled laughter. "They're called blue jeans and t-shirts," Twiggy said.

Looking thoughtful, Blink said, "There, Mervin, you see? They're not Hungarian gypsies sent to assasinate you!"

"Oy," Skweeker muttered.

"Actually, we're from the future," Twiggy told them.

"How far?" Mush asked.

"2001," I answered.

"Nuh-uh, that's not true!" Blink yelled. "Mervin doesn't believe it, either!"

"Ah, shut yer yap, Kid. You an' Mervin," Mush said, elbowing him. Turning to us, he said, "Blink's got a bunch of...friends. Right, Blink? Why don't you name 'em for us?"

Blink's head whipped around and he grinned evilly. "Well, there's me, Mervin, Gertrude, Charlotte, Jimmy, Frank, and Arthur. You can't make Arthur mad, 'cause he's homocidal. Other than that, they're glad to meet you goils."

"Uh, Blink? My dad's a pharmacist. Maybe he can recommend some medication for you," I said, still on the verge of hysterical laughter.

"Frankly, Race and I are the only sane guys here," Mush whispered to us. "By the way, what're yer names?"

"Monkey McCartney."

"Twiggy Townsend."

"Skweeker McCain."

He nodded.

Specs came up to us. "How did that get there?" he asked, pointing at Skweeker.

"What?" we asked him.

"That pink elephant that's chewing on her ear," he answered matter-of-factly.

"I think he needs to get his glasses checked," Skweeker whispered to Twiggy and me. We cracked up.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Don't worry about it," Twiggy told him.

Suddenly, Twiggy's cat, Mully, fell through the hole and landed on Snitch. "Here, kitty!" he exclaimed, trying to catch the frightened cat that jumped off him and ran toward Davey.

"No! NOOO! DON'T LET IT GET ME!!!" Davey screamed, hiding his head.

"Calm down, Dave, it's just a cat," Racetrack told him.

"B-b-but it came from...up there..." he whimpered, pointing to the sky.

Just then, Twiggy's other cat, Roswell, fell through and landed on Boots. Davey started screaming in terror again.

"Wahh!" Boots yelled. He started running around in repetitive circles.

"Why is he doing that?" I asked Race.

"He does that when he gets scared or startled. He'll eventually tire himself out an' fall down," Race answered.

Skweeker, Twiggy, and I were starting to get majorly freaked out by the newsies whom we thought we knew. Apparently, movies don't show everything.

"Well," Mush said, "we're gonna visit Brooklyn today. You'll get to meet the infamous-"

"Spot Conlon?" Twiggy finished for him.

"Yeah," Mush continued, "but whatever you do, don't say ANYTHING about his height or size. He'll go crazy."

"Sounds like an inferiority complex," Skweeker whispered to me. I stifled a laugh. "He doesn't have to worry about me saying anything to him about height," she whispered. "However, his scrawnyness is another story. That child just doesn't look healthy."

We followed Mush and Race, the only sane newsies, across the bridge into Brooklyn. Spot and some of his boys met us at the docks.

"Howsit, Mushy-boy? Race?" he greeted. "Who's this?" he asked, pointing at us.

"Skweeker, Monkey, and Twiggy," Race pointed to each of us.

Spot greeted us, and I made a mistake. "What's up, short stuff?"

Skweeker also made a mistake. "Been eatin' your Wheaties lately, Spot?"

Spot's face fell. "People always say I'm short. Always. I'm smaller than everyone. I'm scrawny. I'm so scrawny." He continued mumbling to himself, pacing, and rubbing his hands over his face.

"He should be fine in a while," Race told us. "C'mon, let's go back to Manhattan."

Suddenly, something told me to jump into the East River. Never one to ignore my gut feeling, I jumped right in. That water was cold. I heard everyone yelling at me, asking why I had jumped into the East River at night in the middle of New York.

I found out why my gut told me to jump into the river. There was Skittery, floating on his back and counting the stars aloud.

"Ten billion, nine hundred million, twenty-eight thousand, ninety-five hundred, one hundred fifty-three..." he mumbled, shivering.

"What are you doing, Skittery?" I asked him.

He yelled, startled. "You messed me up! Now I've got to start all over! One, two, three..."

I rolled my eyes and climbed up the pier, where Twiggy, Skweeker, Mush, and Race were waiting on me.

"What's up with Skittery?" I asked.

"He's obsessed with numbers," Mush explained. "He counts everything."

I nodded, still a bit freaked out by the whole day. "Okay, let's go back to Manhattan. I wanna go home!"

The others in agreement, we crossed the bridge into Manhattan. Twiggy, Skweeker, and I bid farewell to all the newsies, even Davey, who was still huddled in the corner, and Boots, who was still running in circles. Blink and all his friends said goodbye, too.

The three of us made our way back to the distribution center, Mully and Roswell in tow, and climbed up onto the cart. One by one, we jumped up through the hole and landed back in my yard.

"That...was freaky," I said.

THE END


End file.
